


Tinkerballs and the World's Worst Walk

by tuesday



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Bondage, Cannibalism, M/M, Other, References to Thwarted Animal Harm, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 15:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16452146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: Eddie and Venom take a walk and find a dog.—Eddie's not proud of it, but he kind of had this thought, a nebulously formed fantasy.  Venom would find out and he would say, in that deep, rumbling purr he gets when he's pleased, "Why, Eddie, you only had to ask."(He's tried not to let it get much further, both because he respects Venom as a sentient being who doesn't need Eddie fantasizing about him while he'sright there, stuck riding along in his head, and also because that shit's a surefire way to get caught even faster.)Venom's actual reaction, standing in the middle of a filthy alley after handing back partial control, is, "That's weird, Eddie."





	Tinkerballs and the World's Worst Walk

**Author's Note:**

> Sneaking in at lunchtime with a new fic. It has a whole lot less on-screen sex than one would expect considering it's inspired entirely by that scene at the beginning of the movie where Anne leads Eddie around by her tie. 
> 
> This is another short one, as I'm distracted by exchange season and working on getting back into the swing of regular fannish participation, but take it as a love letter to you, Venom fandom, because I have not been this productive in years. I am even trying to figure out tumblr again.
> 
> As for the dog's name, I'm not sorry.

Occasionally, Eddie thinks about it. When he lets Venom take over and he has no control, no way to move his own arms or legs, not even to squirm in his own bonds—look, he can't help it.

It's a perfectly natural reaction. It's almost Pavlovian at this point after years of letting Anne tie him up and have her way with him, plus all the men and women who came before. It doesn't matter that it's an alien and that the bonds are entirely internal, that there's nothing sexual intended at all—Eddie is into it. Really, really into it. It's probably for the best when he gives himself over entirely and loses all sense of autonomy that it includes any automatic reactions by his dick, too.

Eventually, Venom finds out. Of course he does. They're in each other's heads 24/7, permanent and continued cohabitation every second of the day. Eddie's only surprised he didn't find out sooner.

Eddie's not proud of it, but he kind of had this thought, a nebulously formed fantasy. Venom would find out and he would say, in that deep, rumbling purr he gets when he's pleased, "Why, Eddie, you only had to ask."

(He's tried not to let it get much further, both because he respects Venom as a sentient being who doesn't need Eddie fantasizing about him while he's _right there_ , stuck riding along in his head, and also because that shit's a surefire way to get caught even faster.)

Venom's actual reaction, standing in the middle of a filthy alley after handing back partial control, is, "That's weird, Eddie."

That's it, that's all he has to say. Thanks, Venom. Eddie knows it's weird. "Human sexuality is like that."

"Yes. I've noticed." As always, Eddie can't tell if Venom is disturbed or intrigued. It's not just this—Venom sounds this way about almost every human thing that doesn't have an immediate symbiote parallel. Venom changes the subject to the more immediate concern: "Can we eat this one?"

Eddie sighs. "What do you think?"

"I think ... yes."

Fortunately no one's going to miss the kind of guy who stalks his ex-girlfriend and was caught trying to kill her dog. Even if someone does, there's no evidence of foul play once Venom's finished licking up the bloodstains. He uses long, black tendrils and little puddles of ooze to absorb every last drop, but call a spade a spade.

"And this—we do not eat this." This tone, Eddie can read. Venom's not so much confused as hoping Eddie will change his mind.

"Yeah. We'll take," Eddie checks the tag, "Tinkerballs back to his owner and tell her we found him wandering down the street."

They head back up the block, Eddie carrying the dog and glad it's too intimidated to do more than shiver in his arms. It tends to be even odds whether pets try to hide or get bitey.

Venom says, abrupt and out of nowhere, "We should get a dog."

"You wouldn't get to eat that one, either."

"There was a dog at the hospital. It was fuzzy, but delicious." Before Eddie can respond, Venom continues, "I put it back how I found it. It was not a bad temporary host."

"So, what, you want to take yourself on walks?" There's no one around to stare at Eddie seemingly carrying on a conversation with himself. Another plus to walking around at night besides it being a good time to find criminals for Venom to eat.

"No." Venom's response is immediate, firm. "You are all the host I need."

"Then why—?"

"You and Anne had a pet. A cat."

"Yeah," Eddie quickly agreed, not wanting to hear Venom's opinions on Mr. Belvedere's potential edibility. "We did."

"And you did this with Anne, too."

"Pretty sure I'd remember if Anne and I went out hunting criminals." Eddie's forgotten a few things in the months since they were engaged, but that is definitely not one of them.

"Not that. _This_."

"That's—really illuminating."

Eddie shifts Tinkerballs in his grip as Venom makes a noise of frustration. He pushes himself out, attached in a few places—a few long strands at their sides, a spot halfway down his thighs, and from Eddie's knees to his ankles—but mostly standing clean, separate. Venom puts his hands on Eddie's shoulders and holds him firmly, inescapably in place. His thumbs brush either side of Eddie’s neck. His smile is wide, all those sharp teeth on display, as he says, " _This_."

Eddie makes a noise like a whimper, and Venom's smile grows wider still.

The dog barks. Venom's smile disappears with the rest of him back into Eddie's body. There's the distant cry of a woman bellowing, "Tinkerballs! Tinkerballs! Here, boy, here, Tinkerballs!" at the top of her lungs, no care for it being three o'clock in the morning.

Eddie heads in that direction. He can respect that kind of blatant disregard for your neighbors. It's not like she's playing loud music, and she won't have to worry about any more mysterious breakouts. Even if Tinkerballs had opposable thumbs, Eddie's almost certain tonight's events qualify as sufficiently traumatizing to keep the little guy at home.

"No dog," Eddie says, suddenly a little more sure of himself. "But—the rest of it. We should talk about it when we get home."

"Mm," Venom rumbles his agreement. Eddie experiences the sensation of large, claw-tipped hands pressing down on his shoulders once more. None of the disgruntled neighbors, awake and twitching aside their curtains to see if the shouting is going to subside anytime soon, can see anything but a single man carrying a dog toward a distraught and relieved young woman. The hands dig in, then release. Venom agrees, "Home."

**Author's Note:**

> After-credits include Eddie explaining to Venom that all those late night walks and impromptu people dinners were not, in fact, dates and Venom explaining back that no, yes, they absolutely were. They're in agreement that all the ones in their future definitely count, though.


End file.
